


I have been falling since I saw you for the first time

by Lumeriel



Series: Beautiful sinners [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Lumeriel
Summary: Idril has come to a decision regarding her feelings





	I have been falling since I saw you for the first time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This has been going around in my head for months. This series is totally written in my head; but work and school are killing me. I promise that for the next week I will continue with Bound, that is also all written - in my head.

The doors rise before me. I have seen many things ... I have lived through situations that would make any other female shudder ... but nothing prepared me for the impression that the entrance to the Timeless Halls would cause in me.  
It's my first time here. When my husband died - mortal man as he was - there was no point in coming here, not even Mandos had an answer about his destiny. When my father was reincarnated, I did not come either and for many months I did not see him, as he got used to life with the help of Finrod and my mother. I have not been here for the release of any member of my family, actually. My uncle - whom I love deeply - asked that no one wait for him in his release and my grandsire has chosen to remain in the Halls of Mandos until his half-brother is freed. His decision has provoked different reactions among the citizens of Tirion. I must say that neither my grandmother Anairë nor my great-grandmother, the widowed queen Indis, seemed surprised. But it was the first of many unexpected decisions ... the last of which is me, waiting here.  
“Daughter of Elenwë.”  
I feel my back tense when the deep voice is heard almost in my ear and yet, far above me. Thousands of years have passed since I last heard it: the Keeper of Souls does not leave his abode often.  
“My lord” I murmur, bowing.  
“Your family never ceases to amaze me.”  
I'm almost sure I've sensed a certain ... fun in his tone; but I remain motionless, waiting for him to decide to show himself.  
“That is a compliment, my Lord Mandos”, I reply, trying to seem oblivious to the implication of his words.  
“Is it?”  
I turn to look at him. Unlike the others, the Vala of Final Destiny does not assume corporeal form often. Right now, I'm not sure that there is "something" inside the black hood embroidered in gold that rises to surpass me on two feet.  
“Then, it is a judgment”, I reply with apparent calmness.  
“It's a fact” he corrects me. “I always considered that you were born from the wrong father, daughter of Elenwë.”  
Although I'm not sure he has eyes proper, I feel Vala's gaze on me. I know what he looks at and instinctively, I caress the chain that surrounds my wrist. My uncle Fingon gave it to me before I went to Gondolin, when it was evident that my father was preparing to leave without saying where: as I later learned, it had been a gift from my mother to him before he married. I am not stupid and I always knew that my parents did not love each other the way I saw others, _in the way that I later came to know_ ; but to discover that whoever possessed my mother's heart was his own brother-in-law left a deep impression on me. Maybe that's why I tried all my life to compensate my father, to be the perfect daughter, the dream princess, the queen that my mother could not be.  
“However, here you are.”  
Námo's voice makes it clear that he listens to my thoughts clearly. I'm tempted to tell him that those are terrible bad manners ... and I remember he can listen to me while I think about it. Irritating.  
“Does your father know you're here? And why?”  
“I have been responsible for my actions for a long time. My father stopped governing me long ago.”  
“Others may also disagree.”  
“ _Atto_ would agree.”  
A chill runs through me: millennia have passed since I referred to my grandsire calling him "dad". The slip takes me back to the moment I turned on me, half frozen, to find my grandfather barely dressed next to me and my hands soaked in blood - _his blood_ \- while he rubbed my fingers and my feet.  
“Blood is hot”, I murmur, distracted.  
“Especially Finwions’ blood.”  
A smile dances on my lips: after all, Námo has a sense of humor.  
“Of course: it allows me to appreciate the irony of life. It is Manwë who has no sense of humor.” I bite my lower lip, thinking if I should say something; but a weight pulls on my stomach, cutting my breath. “Your wait is over, daughter of Elenwë”, declares the Vala and I know he’s smiling.  
The doors open inwards, without noise, barely enough for a silhouette to slide between them. My heart stops ... like thousands of years ago.  
I do not move. I can still feel the presence of Námo at my side; but my feet weigh, nailed to the gray slabs that make up the floor while my eyes are still aware of the slow progress of the figure.  
I want to scream; but - just like thousands of years ago - the voice gets stuck in my throat.  
That time, among the golden glory of the "hidden city", it was fear that drowned my voice and paralyzed my body. Fear of the darkness I saw for the first time. Fear to fall into that darkness. It was fear that always kept me at a distance ... because that darkness could consume me. I have read the texts that teach our infants in schools today: that I guessed something dark in him and stayed away. It was not in him that I discovered the shadow: **it was in me**.  
He is getting closer. He advances with his head bowed, as I never saw him do there in Gondolin and my heart sinks a little more. What have I done? Maybe I should have told him the truth, I consider once more in all these years; maybe, if I had been honest with him, with myself ... nothing would have happened as it happened. He stops and raises his face for the first time. Despite the distance, I see the surprise in his dark eyes and then, the fear. His gaze searches around me, looking for his mother; but she is not. She's not because I got the message from Námo, because I did not tell anyone, because I wanted this moment just for me. It is this darkness that he provokes in me what I have always feared: how can one be so selfish? How can you desire things that are forbidden? How can you love something that others despise?  
“The darkness should never be feared, daughter of Elenwë.”  
Again the voice of Námo responds my thoughts and I feel the tears cloud my sight; but the image of Lómion - of Maeglin - remains sharp in front of me. I notice that he takes a step back and that is when I perceive that I have run in his direction. For a moment, he raises an arm, as if he wanted to protect himself; but then he lowers it and resignation covers his aquiline features. Oh Eru! How much I have evoked that face in my mind. The image of Tuor pales in my memory; my son's features have been overshadowed by the light of the silmaril... but nothing has managed to muddy the memory of those eyes, of that mouth that tenses when my arms surround his neck and I force him to lower his head to support my forehead in his. He does not move ... and for a second, I fear that I was wrong all the time, that he only wanted the throne of Gondolin and I was the shortest way; but then his hands touch my waist imperceptibly and my blood runs like lava inside me again. Before, when he held me while the eagle deposited in the yard the body of my grandfather and king, Maeglin's contact had sent me running to hide in my bedroom, frightened by the fire that unleashed on me; today, I allow myself to gloat in that heat that I had not felt again. For a moment, while my fingers run along his bare shoulders and my palms are resting on his chest, it occurs to me that it is shameful for a prince of the House of Finwë to remain naked in the middle of nowhere; but then his arms are around me and my eyes are raised to read a question in his.  
“I've been waiting for you” I declare without hesitation. And I do not give a damn if someone is horrified by what I feel for the one who betrayed my father, my people, my city. Maedhros says it was the Enemy's influence next to his father's, and I let others accept it to give him a chance. But I do not care about explanations or excuses. The only thing I want is him - murderer, traitor, usurper - he is mine and nothing else matters.  
I see him open his mouth to speak. I lean on the tips of my feet to close his mouth with my lips. We are rare people, the Finwions, always attracted to danger and darkness; but we are people determined to get what we want ... and to maintain it.  
I pull away from his mouth only when my lungs burn from lack of breath and I pull away just enough to support my cheek on his chest, feeling the accelerated beat of his heart against me. Now Maeglin hugs me tightly, wrapping me in his arms and body, and his dark hair covers my eyes, plunging me into shadow. I relax: I have been falling into this darkness since I first saw him and finally, I let myself be trapped.


End file.
